


Accountability

by mitzvahmelting



Category: Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Basically just an exploration of Dick's opinions about Bruce, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6079098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitzvahmelting/pseuds/mitzvahmelting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>When Officer Grayson comes home from the BPD with a sandwich from the local deli and some groceries in hand, there’s a girl waiting on the steps of his building.  He pauses when he sees her, pulls a half smile, and shifts his load of plastic bags to fish the key out of his coat pocket. “You could have just used the spare.”</em>
</p><p>Barbara and Dick talk about Dick's frayed relationship with Bruce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accountability

When Officer Grayson comes home from the BPD with a sandwich from the local deli and some groceries in hand, there’s a girl waiting on the steps of his building.  He pauses when he sees her, pulls a half smile, and shifts his load of plastic bags to fish the key out of his coat pocket. “You could have just used the spare.”

“Didn’t come from the Manor. I would have stopped by there to pick it up, but I wasn’t going to get to Blüdhaven till six anyway.  Figured I’d wait.”

They ascend the stairs to his apartment. “Did you bring me something about a case?” _Mask business?_

“What, can’t I make a social visit?”

“Is this is a social visit?” He opens his apartment and sets the groceries down on the kitchen counter.

She pauses at the threshold.  She doesn’t see his apartment very often, and when she does she’s always thrown by how starkly modern it is.  It’s all open, with a wall full of windows and sparse furniture.  When they were kids and he was living at the manor, living in a building of rooms and walls and opacity, she could see herself with him, hiding in a pocket of intimacy.  Here, the transparency of his living space makes her feel exposed. “It’s not about a case.”

“But it’s not entirely a social visit either.”  He puts his things in the fridge and notices her pursed lips.  “It’s okay, Babs, I stopped expecting _social visits_ a long time ago.” 

After all, they broke up, what, three years ago? Four? Before Nightwing, before she started college, before that semester abroad in Belgium when everything changed in Gotham without her.

Before Jason, before his funeral a few months ago.  “Dick, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He leans back against the kitchen island and fixes his eyes on her, but there’s none of the customary lightness in his eyes.

She just looks at him for a moment, calculating. _Let sleeping dogs lie,_ she thinks to herself, and then resolutely ignores the proverb. “Can you tell me what happened, when I was away? What happened between you and Bruce?”  She’d come home from Belgium, three or four years ago, to find the Robin costume permanently sealed in its case, and Dick had moved out of the manor.  The most either of them had explained to her was that it was just _time_.  It was time for him to strike out on his own. Time for the bird to leave the nest.  (No, time hadn’t made that lie any easier to swallow.)

He looks at her for a long moment and, damn, they’re the same man, now.  He looks just like Bruce, picking his words, never quite trusting enough to speak without thinking about it first.  But then, this is Dick, and maybe the one crucial difference between him and his father is that Dick only shields his feelings because he thinks he’s _supposed to,_ and not because of any real distrust or reluctance.  When he decides to speak, he breaks eye contact, and stands up off the island. “Look, I was twenty-three and he was treating me like I was still nine.”

“All parents-”

“Don’t.” he cuts her off.  “I don’t mean civilian stuff, I mean in the field.  He was treating me like I was still nine _in the field._ Like I didn’t have ideas. Like I couldn’t hold my own against the bad guys. No matter how many times I saved his skin, he’d never treat me like an equal, never… never let me take the lead.”

He trails off.

“You expected an equal partnership with _Batman?_ ”

His chin juts out. “I worked with him for almost fifteen years, Babs.  Don’t you think, after all this time…?”

She just tilts her head at him. 

“Well.” He mutters, “well, I didn’t _expect_ an equal partnership.  But I did start feeling like I _deserved_ it.  And I knew he’d never… the way he is… it just. It grates on you.  So. It was time.”

“He was arrogant and authoritarian.” She shakes her head, “But he’s _always_ been that way, and you still worked with him for fifteen years. So something must have changed, or there must have been some breaking point.”

“Yeah, well,” a hand on the back of his head as he turns from her, “it doesn’t really matter, anymore. That argument happened years ago.  We moved past it. Sometimes we even work together.”

“Hmm.”

“How come you’re wondering about this now, Barbara? It’s been awhile.”

She coughs. “Um,” she says, “I was just wondering what it was like, for you.”  Suddenly, he’s facing her again, and his eyes narrow, and it’s only been a few months since another Robin costume ended up suspended in its display case permanently. 

He knows.

“No,” Dick breathes.

She shakes her head, thinking of the way Bruce has been since Jason’s death.  “He’s a mess.”

“Don’t do it.  Don’t – oh, fuck, Barbara, you can’t….” And he pushes past her and over to the couches by the television, and he sinks down and rests his elbows on his knees and his fingers cover his eyes and he’s angry.  She didn’t expect him to be angry. Leave it to the Bat to make the nicest, happiest boy she’s ever known _angry._ “He’s always a mess,” Dick says, “It’s not your job to fix him.” 

She takes a deep breath, settles down on the other couch.  “No,” she assents, “it isn’t.”

“I don’t-” he starts, and it sounds like his throat is tighter, “I don’t even know why you would want to work with him.  Like, me and – and _Jason,_ I – I understand, because we didn’t have anyone else. We were… alone, and he took us in, and it…” He swallows, “It makes it easier to ignore someone’s flaws, when they’re all you’ve got.”

She fiddles with the hem of her skirt, “Don’t get me wrong, Dick, he didn’t ask me or anything.  In fact, he’s vehemently against the idea. I believe his exact words were-”

“‘ _I work alone,’”_ Dick interrupts, lifting his head from his hands, smiling mirthlessly like it’s some kind of catchphrase.

“I’m just thinking of… maybe ignoring that. Maybe making Batgirl a more permanent installation.”

“But _why?”_ Dick asks, pleadingly. “Barbara, you don’t understand. If he doesn’t even want you there in the first place?  Every mistake you make will be construed as evidence that you shouldn’t be there, every success will be written off as beginner’s luck.  He’ll withhold crucial information, he’ll bully you into quitting. He’ll… you deserve so much better than what he would put you through.”

“Sticks and stones,” Barbara says, brushing it off.  “He needs someone, Dick. If he doesn’t have someone out there with him, he’s going to be reckless and get himself killed.”

“Well, recklessness and self-sacrifice is his prerogative, Babs.  Someday he’ll get his due.”

“And then what?” she counters, voice tight, “And then what, Dick? If he dies, what happens to Gotham? What happens to _you?_ ”

He sets his jaw. “There are contingency plans in place. Nightwing would expand his territory and League members would pick up the slack.”

“But what happens to you?”

“I said Nightwing -”

“I’m not talking about Nightwing.”

He grimaces, then spits out, “Well, you know what, Babs? Contrary to popular belief, if Batman dies, the world keeps spinning.”

She sighs to herself, leans against the back of the couch. “I know you don’t want to interfere, and that’s fine. But I’m the one who’s qualified to handle this in your stead.  You know that.”

Dick covers his eyes again, rubbing at his temples.  “But, Babs, you have a _family,_ you have a _life,_ you don’t…” He chokes out, “Can’t he just pick up another stray?”

They both fall silent for a moment, and Dick takes a deep breath and sighs through his teeth. He lifts his face from his hands and rests his chin there instead, staring at the reflection of his kitchen in the black of the mounted flat-screen.

She moves to his couch, to sit next to him. “When did you stop seeing yourself as his son?”

For a moment, he doesn’t breathe, and he doesn’t look at her, and then – then, rough with emotion, he starts chuckling.  Laughing, but his eyes are wincing.  “I came home with a sandwich.”

“What?”

He’s coughing and laughing and his eyes are red. “I c-came home with a sandwich and groceries and then – and then _you_ show up, Babs, and in ten minutes you’ve – you’ve got me all messed up…”

She flounders. “I… I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I-” he chokes out, and then he covers his eyes again and tries to pull himself together, and his mouth flashes a grimace as he swallows it down.  With his eyes still covered, voice shaking, he says, “You know how much it s-sucks to be r-replaced? I mean – I mean, I know that sounds really oversensitive but… look, Nightwing was supposed to make it so we were equal.  He and I would be equals, and we might keep working together, you know? As partners. And sometimes, sometimes we’d work alone, but it… it’d work.  That was what was supposed to happen.  But he was never gonna work with me. So he picks up some other o-orphan off the street because this kid, _this_ kid will listen to him and do what he says. Obedient.” A pause and another grimace, about Jason. “Up to a point, at least.”

She rests her palm on his knee, and she doesn’t know how to comfort him or if she should even try, because she needs to hear this.  She needs to hear this, that’s what she came for, and if she didn’t expect it to come out of an emotional confession then maybe she needs more practice at this whole detective business.

“And – oh _fuck,_ Barbara, when I left for college… it’s like I wasn’t a part of his civilian life anymore. I mean, I patrolled with him at night, but during the day? God, when I was home on break he wouldn’t even speak to me.  He was always b-busy, going on missions in, I don’t know, _space_ … When I left, when I became Nightwing, and I – well, I saw him with Jason, and it was like.  There he was, again. Being… goddamn affectionate.  So I guess it wasn’t like _he_ changed, huh? It was something about _me_ that wasn’t good enough for him anymore.”

“Dick…”

“So – so, you know what, Barb? _No_ , I’m _not_ his son. But don’t worry, ‘cause I’m sure he’ll find some other kid to do it.”  He’s shaking, and if she knows the Bat’s kid, she’s got less than thirty seconds before he makes some excuse to suit up and go for a long ride, take out his feelings on some unlucky punk, and never speak of this again.

She wraps one arm around his shoulders, and he could push her off. His… his father would shrug off her comforts.  But this is Dick, and he’s… he’s always been a little softer.  It’s why she loved him. 

Loves him.

So his breath hitches and his fingers knot in his own hair, but he doesn’t pull away from her palm rubbing circles between his shoulder blades.

“You know,” she says, “this whole ‘he’s treating me like I’m still a kid’ thing has been your mantra since I met you. Way before you went to GU. You’ve been saying that since high school.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, bitterly, “yeah, I remember.”

“Did you ever think it might be because he doesn’t know how to be a parent to someone older than, say, age eight?”

“God, Barb, please don’t…”

“Like, you go to college and he’s so lost. He doesn’t want to smother you because you always say he treats you like a kid, he doesn’t want to screw up, right? But he also doesn’t know how to have a son who’s grown-up.  So his fear of doing the wrong thing paralyzes him.”

“Barbara…”

“So when Jason showed up, it must’ve been this huge relief.” Barbara lifts her voice in sarcasm, even if it’s a poor imitation of the baritone of their mentor, “ _’A little boy under age ten? Thank goodness! That’s my one and only parenting skill set!’_ ” She gives Dick’s arm a squeeze, “God bless ol’ Thomas and Martha, but they didn’t have much of an opportunity to lead by example when it came to moody twenty-somethings with daddy issues.”

He half-chuckles. “I think that was a little blasphemous, Babs.” 

She snorts. “Better light a candle in the Church of the Holy Bat.”

And then the frown returns to his face. “This makes him sound like a victim, though. You can’t just turn it around like that, Babs.”

“I’m just saying that things can fall apart without anyone ever meaning harm.”

“No. No, that’s not what you’re saying.” His hands grip his knees.  “You’re saying if I was just more patient, then none of this would have happened.  But, see-” and then he’s smiling again, but it’s a little feral, a little self-satisfied that he finally found the piece of the argument that conveyed what he was trying to say, “see, this is the problem, Barbara. You’ve never lived with him like this. You don’t understand that… that at some point, asking ‘patience’ is asking too much.  It’s too much, it was too much, and I just couldn’t _do_ it anymore, and that wasn’t something about _me;_ that was something about _him.”_

“Especially because he was your dad.”

“Especially because… what?”

“Because he was your dad, and he was supposed to take care of you, and asking you to be patient while he works out his problems is as much of a role reversal as it is a corruption of your whole relationship.”

He sighs, leans back and stretches his neck out along the spine of the couch, and he breathes through his teeth. “Well,” he says, “you’re not wrong.”

“So that’s what I was thinking about, Dick.  That’s why I came to talk to you.”

“Look, Babs, I know you’ve got all these noble intentions, but…”

“But nothing, Dick. This is what I’m saying, this is my secret weapon: _I’m_ not his kid.  I’ll be able to work with him.  And, not for nothing, I’m also _female._ Batman has a thing about women – you know. Catwoman, Harley Quinn, Talia al Ghul.  A gentleman’s complex.”

“He’s not gonna go easy on you just because you’re a girl.”

“In training? Of course not. But he’ll temper his speech.  He won’t be short with me.  And that was the worst of it, wasn’t it?  How harsh he could be, how sparing he was about praise and positive reinforcement.”  She pauses and considers him for a moment. “And, Dick, you need to understand that if this weren’t the case, if I _was_ his kid and I _wasn’t_ reaping the benefits of his inexplicable chivalry, I wouldn’t be able to do this. I’m not as strong as you were, Dick, and I don’t pretend to be.”

“You don’t have to say that, Babs.  My ego isn’t that fragile.”

The air conditioner hums, and they’re both quiet for a moment.  Dick has regained control of his breathing, and he’s calmer now. Barbara is still a little sick to her stomach about how raw his emotions are, even after so many years since his fallout with Bruce. How much he clearly wants to stop loving Bruce, stop caring so much, even though he just can’t, because, on some level, Dick still sees himself as that nine year old boy, and Bruce is all he has.

“You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?” he finally says.

“Yeah.”

And he’s suddenly got his arms wrapped tight around her, holding her. “Listen to him in the field.” he whispers, “Just. Just do what he says and don’t get hurt.”

She holds him back and tucks her face into his shoulder. “Now that’s something I never thought you’d say.”

“I can’t lose you.” _He let Jason die. He can’t let you die. Please, God, he can’t let you die._

“I’ll be fine. I promise. And, hey, maybe one day you can come by, too. We could spar, we could patrol. Just like old times.”

“I will. I will, but not for him,” he says, “Only for you.”

“That’s okay, Dick.” She squeezes her arms tight around him, like this will reassure him, like this will help him sleep at night, knowing she’s going to work with the Bat. Maybe it will. “That’s okay.”


End file.
